Follow the Bluelines
by Kamikins
Summary: They weren't supposed to work. They'd been fighting their differences for too long, and Misaki realized he had grown weary of playing the same game over and over again. "Let's stop this."
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

This might be a bad idea because I'm not exactly an expert in publishing or anything that will appear in this fic. I love _Junjou Romantica_ but I can't say that I have everything memorized, so there may be some inconsistencies. I apologize in advance if you catch anything. Word of warning, I haven't really read the manga, so everything here will be based mostly off the anime.

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the anime or the manga. Nothing belongs to me.

* * *

"GOOD MORNING, GRADUATE!"

That's the last thing I hear before I'm pulled into a suffocating embrace by my older brother Takahiro, who has incidentally been staying with Usagi-san and myself since Friday afternoon. Today is Sunday, the morning of my graduation from Mitsuhashi University! Coincidentally, Mitsuhashi was also the university Takahiro was looking forward to attending before he was forced to set his schooling aside, to take care of _me_ naturally, and so I pledged to apply myself. I'd been so worried that my brother would be in a foul mood because of that one painful detail, however…

"My little Misaki is so grown-up! I'm so proud, I feel just like a parent!" Takahiro is holding me from behind, squeezing almost painfully as he sobs happily into my apron. I doubt he's noticed that his coddling is burning our breakfast, but I don't mention it to him either. I like seeing my brother so happy, knowing he's proud of me – it makes all of my effort to graduate worth it.

After a couple more seconds of intense cuddling and sobbing, he finally releases me and moves to stand next to me instead, watching over my shoulder as I attempt to scrape the (near blackened) eggs from the bottom of the pan.

"Hey, why don't we go see something at that new theatre you've been wanting to go to? It'll be my treat," he smiles, placing his hand on my shoulder affectionately. Apparently I'm just as good as my brother at letting our scrambled eggs burn, because I can't focus on cooking breakfast whilst attempting to repress these feelings of juvenile excitement washing over me. I gasp, and kind of squeak at the same time, and throw myself at Takahiro. I almost manage to knock the two of us to the kitchen floor, but I'm so happy that I pay no mind to my clumsiness for once. Takahiro is laughing and holding me at arm's length while I jump up and down.

"REALLY?! I mean, I know you wouldn't joke about this, but that place is kind of pricey and I don't want to trouble you…" I manage, grinning like an idiot but also anxious that a night at the theatre would be too much. I might be graduating, so it would make sense that Takahiro would want to treat me, but self-reliance is something I've come to value greatly in the past year.

"It's no trouble, Misaki! You've earned it," he grins, running a hand through my hair.

"Ha! I'm so excited! The _theatre_ ," I swoon, comically touching the back of my hand to my forehead. "This is going to be a great day. I can already tell," I sigh under my breath, scraping the eggs onto a plate. Takahiro has moved to the dining room already, sitting almost serenely with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. I always wondered how someone with a kid could still manage to find peace, especially in the morning – the time of day when everything here decides to explode all at once. I sit next to him and just stare for awhile, and luckily he doesn't take any notice.

When niichan told me over the phone that he was coming, I had been legitimately excited – but also terrified. You see, ever since Usagi-san and I started this…this thing we have, Takahiro hasn't exactly been in the _know_. I wonder how he'd react if he found out that his best friend from high school and I were in this…well, this _arrangement_.

I force myself to look away from him and down at my own plate.

He'd left his wife and Mahiro back at home, explaining that they already had plans and it would be easier to spend time with me this weekend if he didn't have a child to worry about. I was grateful for that. It's natural that I would miss him, I guess. But, strangely, there was a part of me that also didn't want him to come either. I wanted to tell him,

 _Please, just stay home with them. It'll be easier that way_.

But ever since his arrival I've been having a wonderful time just sitting and looking at him, talking with him, being normal brothers without the lectures about making good grades, or renting an apartment, or… _Usagi-san_. Things have been relatively peaceful this time, all things considered.

 _BANG._

An upstairs bedroom's door nearly flies off its hinges, and in the doorway stands Great Lord Akihiko Usami, winner of the Naomori and Kikukawa Awards, and my current flatmate/lover of nearly five years. Tucked under one arm is his bear, Suzuki-san, and following him as he makes his way downstairs is what appears to be a purple cloud of grumpiness and self-loathing. Breakfast will undoubtedly be tense, as usual.

Oh yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that due to my brother's ignorance of our typical sleeping arrangement, Usagi-san and I have not shared a bed, or a room for that matter, since he came to stay with us.

"Morning, Akihiko!" my brother chirps in welcome, completely oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. Usagi-san just grunts and pulls out a chair, sitting rather stiffly and glaring at me from across the table.

I change my mind; today is going to be _hell_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note_ : Alright! I'm trying to get as many chapters out as possible as a source of motivation. These chapters are a little short, but I hope to make them longer as time goes on!

* * *

The center quad is buzzing with excitement; the flashing is nearly blinding from all of the cameras, and it seems everyone has something inspiring to say or a new hand to shake or a job offer to excitedly close in on. I'm standing in the middle of it all, Takahiro at my side and Usagi-san loitering somewhere behind us. To be honest, I never thought I'd make it this far…but I blink a couple times and everything remains as it is. I pinch myself and I'm not dreaming. I'm high-fiving all of my friends in my best suit and we're laughing and throwing our congratulations back and forth, and this is actually happening to _me_. Today I am officially a graduate of the prestigious Mitsuhashi University, and I couldn't be prouder of myself.

"You did well."

I jump a little at Usagi-san's voice. I hadn't felt him behind me. I turn to look at his face, and to my pleasant surprise he looks thrilled – or as thrilled as Usagi-san _can_ look. This is a good change from this morning when he was…emotionally incapacitated.

My cheeks warm knowing that he's also proud of me. It was evident how niichan felt from the start (it usually is), and after searching for a second I finally see him a short distance away conversing with one of my professors. After further inspection it appears to be Kamijou… _oh no_.

 _Please don't say anything bad about me! Just pretend I never took your class!_

I'm so caught up in my fretting that I almost forget that Usagi-san just praised me. That's a rarity; the man is usually really blunt and cold, so seeing him smile so gently at me and offer me praise only makes me even more jittery. I soon realize that I haven't even answered him, and have potentially made the situation more awkward than it needed to be.

"Ah, thanks…but I couldn't have accomplished any of this without your tutoring," I point out, trying to suppress the growing urge to hug him. There are too many people present.

He looks blankly at me for a moment, like there's something he isn't sure how to say, but then he smirks and ruffles my hair.

"Wha- HEY," I squirm, batting lightly at his hand, "it took me an hour to do my hair!"

"Don't undermine your own effort. You created a goal for yourself and then you sought me out," he says softly, almost kindly. "What should it matter that you needed help? Look where you are now."

I'm well aware that I'm blushing. I've been blushing for the past eight minutes.

His hand comes back down to pat my head, just pat it, and I can feel myself leaning into his touch. Damn him for making me feel so steady and uncertain, and with such common praise, too. Honestly.

"I know where I am," I mumble. "But I still want to advance. I want to get better!" I'm observing the other students, watching the crowd slowly dissipate as people leave, but my mind is focused primarily on Usagi-san. The entire time I've known him I've admired how put-together his career is, how sure of himself he's always been. Even when he struggles to meet a deadline or argues with Aikawa, his editor, he still produces good work and remains consistent. I want to be like that. He's looking at me, just looking, and I think I catch some confusion in his eyes…but then, he doesn't question anything I'm saying. Then his eyes soften into something a little too intimate for a casual chat on a college campus, especially when my brother is only ten feet away from us, and he leans in so close that I can feel his breath tickle my ear.

"Usagi-san, wha-?"

"I want to see you get there, then. I want to be next to you every time you advance, until you reach the top."

And if those words aren't enough to make me shiver…but this is still too close. I push him back, just a bit, and spare him a weak smile.

"And then we'll be equals," I say, and he looks legitimately surprised for a moment. The surprise shifts into something else, though. It isn't a very happy expression. It's actually pretty…glum.

"Misaki!" Takahiro's voice brings us back to reality. "I'm surprised you've never mentioned Professor Kamijou. He's a pretty fun guy to talk to," he smiles, then laughs at my expression – probably because my face is drained of all color. I grumble something under my breath that only slightly resembles _he's great_ before coughing into a fist.

"You're starting to look like our flag, Misaki," Takahiro points out, "first you were blushing like a bride and now your face is almost completely white. What on earth did you tell the kid, Akihiko?" Takahiro chuckles, turning to look at Usagi-san who has maintained an air of stoicism this entire time.

Before I can freak out and start blabbering on like an idiot, Usagi-san offers Takahiro a friendly smile, though a small one, and simply says, "I think Misaki's a little nervous about what comes next."

That knocks my senses back, but also gets me overthinking things yet again. Usagi-san and I only talked briefly about what would come next for me, for _us_. A year ago I told him that I was almost certain I wanted to continue living with him, but that was an entire year ago. Things change a lot over the span of twelve months. People change.

 _Have we changed?_

I don't even want to think about all the changes I've had to go through by just living with Usagi-san; I'd probably end up getting a headache. I guess the best question for me to ask would be: _were they good changes?_ Or, even more importantly: _were they enough?_

Takahiro's expression shifts into something a little more serious, and suddenly I'm not sure that I like the direction in which this conversation is heading. I can feel another lecture coming on, which means another pack of lies that I have to tell my brother just to keep him off our trail. Usagi-san has made it clear that he doesn't want to tell Takahiro just yet, and I'm fine with that, but there's only so much longer we can keep this charade up…

"Actually," Takahiro says slowly, "there is something I wanted to talk to Misaki about over dinner. Since you're his flatmate, Akihiko, I'd feel even better if you came along."

I start blubbering like an idiot again.

"Is that really a good idea?! Heh, I mean this is supposed to be brother-to-brother bonding time," I screech, waving my hands frantically. I don't want Usagi-san there. I don't know what things might come out of my mouth if he's around during this conversation. Hell, I don't even know what things might come out of _his_ mouth.

"I'd be happy to join," Usagi-san says courteously and I almost choke. This is not going to end well.

* * *

As I expected, dinner is horrifically awkward. I'm trying to distract myself by reminding myself that after dinner we're going to the theatre, something that should excite me. Perhaps I overestimated my ability for optimism, because I could cut through the tension at this table with my butter knife.

"We met this family the other day at a company party, very nice people. Apparently Manami took a cooking class with the wife. Anyways, they have a daughter just about your age: Minako Hayashi. I think you two would really get along, and before you protest you should know that Manami and Minako's mother are already planning your wedding…" Niichan is laughing, but the pleasant sound does nothing to quell the feelings of unease coursing through me.

I stare at my plate, moving my vegetables around wordlessly. I feel antsy and out of focus, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Usagi-san staring at me. I don't look at him to see his expression, though.

"And...if I was dating s-someone else?" I stutter, and my face flushes. I'm going to be permanently red in the face if this weekend doesn't end soon.

"Are you?" Takahiro looks stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I stab at a piece of meat. There's only silence, and I can barely swallow. I notice Usagi-san has gone almost completely still beside me.

"I'm…not," I say slowly, trying to sort out my thoughts, "hypothetically speaking…"

"Well, hypothetically speaking, you know I would never push you one way or the other," Takahiro says then. "You can love whomever you want…"

For a few brief moments I wonder how I could ever doubt my brother's devotion to me and my happiness. Surely I could tell him about me and Usagi-san? Surely he'd understand? Surely he would…?

"…as long as they're your age, of course. Wouldn't want you being taken advantage of."

I can feel myself sink lower into my seat. There's no way I could tell him.

Usagi-san clears his throat then, and I listen anxiously to what he has to say. A part of me hopes he's just changing the subject.

"Takahiro, have you ever considered that being with someone older might benefit Misaki's personal growth? I personally believe emotional maturity can be spread through direct contact, not unlike the common cold."

Takahiro's smile is appreciative, but I can still see the doubt in his eyes.

"I see where you're coming from, Akihiko, though I have to stand by what I said earlier. You may not realize this, but Misaki is very impressionable…"

At this point I'm a little offended that they're talking about me like I'm not even here, like I don't exist outside of their biased perceptions of me.

"…and that makes him easy to…erm… _seduce_. He's had some unhealthy crushes in the past, and whenever things didn't work out he'd be traumatized for weeks on end, sometimes months. I just want to protect him from that-,"

I can't take it anymore. I drop my silverware and slam my hands down on the table.

"You don't have to protect me!"

That came out a little more bratty than I intended. I'm honestly surprised the entire restaurant isn't staring out our table, though a few people definitely are. And my face is flushing again… _great_. I also realize my hands are shaking, and I'm blinking back embarrassed tears now, too. Why is this conversation bothering me so much? I can't stop talking, though. I have to keep going otherwise I'll never get my point across.

"I just graduated college," I breathe deeply through my nose, "I have a job lined up at Marukawa Publishing, and I think I'm old enough to decide what I want to do with my life. I don't need someone to hold my hand. I can hold a relationship, a job, and a life on my own," but the more I speak the more it sounds like I'm just trying to convince myself.

Takahiro is just gaping at me at this point, probably because I just caused a scene in a fancy restaurant. He finally closes his mouth and looks down at his hands, unsure of how to respond. I can't help but sully in these new feelings of regret, because I know he means well, but before I can apologize Usagi speaks up.

"I think you're right, Takahiro." I have no words anymore. "Misaki needs someone he can have a stable relationship with, someone he can be equal to." I have no words anymore because Usagi has stolen my words, stolen them from earlier today, and is now using them against me.

"That's what I've been trying to say. I promise I have the best intentions, Misaki," Takahiro reaches over to brush my hand with his. His eyes are wide with genuine concern. "But you need to become more self-reliant, and that's why I want you to find a new place to live as soon as possible. If you ever want to succeed in life, you're going to need to provide for yourself. I can't do it for you. Akihiko can't do it for you. And this 'hypothetical girlfriend' definitely could not, and _would not_ , do it for you."

"But I-,"

"Listen to your brother, Misaki," Usagi holds a hand up to silence me. "You know I've appreciated everything you've done in lieu of rent, but maybe it's time you made your own experiences…" Usagi-san swallows hard before finishing, "…and made your own life."

It seems like we stare at each for a long time after that, though it couldn't be more than a few seconds. I'm looking into his eyes, and internally I'm asking him all of those unspoken questions that I desperately wish I could vocalize now.

 _Is this what you want?_

 _Should I want this?_

 _Were we just fooling ourselves?_

"Thanks Akihiko. I'm glad he's had a good role-model for all these years," Takahiro says, placing a hand on Usagi's shoulder as they share a smile.

I honestly don't even know what to say anymore. I can't speak, so I begin to eat. I think I want to cry, or maybe I don't? There's something pricking at my eye (tears?) but I ignore it and continue eating. As far as I'm concerned, this conversation is over.

Things don't get much better as the night progresses. The three of us go to the theatre and see the play as planned, and knowing Usagi-san, I sit there expecting him to try to…well, _touch me_ \- like he usually does whenever we go see a movie. He'd never refuse the chance to sneak a couple kisses, not that I necessarily want him to, but Takahiro would be none the wiser. He's too engulfed in the play to notice anything, including the way Usagi-san yawns every ten or so minutes. It's a perfect opportunity for Usagi-san to distract himself, using me obviously, but he never makes a move. He just sits there and yawns and looks mildly troubled. Or maybe I'm imagining it because I'm troubled.

I'm relieved when the play ends. _A waste_ , I think, _I had been looking forward to this all day._ I can't even recall what it was about. I'm still stuck on the conversation we had at dinner. I occasionally glance at Usagi-san during the trip home, but he won't look at me. In fact, he doesn't acknowledge me at all for the rest of the night.

When we finally get home Takahiro double-checks his luggage to make sure everything is prepared for his departure in the morning. Then he pats me on the back and makes his way upstairs to one of the guest rooms for a good night's rest. Meanwhile, Usagi and I are left alone downstairs. I'm waiting for him to jump me. I'm not exactly eager for it, not longing for it, but I'm waiting expectantly because I know he's at his breaking point. He couldn't have meant anything he said at dinner; he made it very clear in the past that he has no intention to break what we have – whatever that is.

We both collapse on the couch with exhausted sighs, but there's a huge gap between us. It's funny, really. It's funny because I feel like that gap is always there, no matter where we go that gap follows us and shoves its way in between us. We sit in silence for awhile, allowing the gap to grow, watching it grow because we're bored and we've got nothing better to do, I guess. Usagi-san lights up a cigarette and finally relaxes, letting himself slowly sink into the cushions. I'm not relaxed, however. I can't stand the silence anymore.

"Hey, Usagi-san?"

"Mm?"

I take my bottom lip between my teeth as I prepare what I'm going to say next. Maybe I should say something deep and inspiring about moving forward, or maybe I should comfort Usagi-san directly? I could tell him to ignore everything Takahiro said, that my brother can't always know what's best for me. I don't say either of those things, though. What I say next is a lot more blunt, and I realize that I'm going to start more trouble than good by saying it.

"Do you think I could get a girlfriend?"

I'm not sure if my question has him stunned or if he's fallen asleep. I haven't actually looked at him for some time.

I turn to look and he's looking back at me, his eyes wide and unfocused…as if they're seeing something else, maybe trying to picture something?

"It's not out of the realm of possibility," he finally answers.

"Hm," I say, pretending to ponder this, pretending to satisfy myself with the answer. In truth, I'm not satisfied. There's a rift between Usagi-san and myself and I don't know how to fix it. The worst part is, I don't even know if I _should_ fix it.

Maybe it's better like this. Communication is more trouble than it's worth, anyways.

I stretch and groan, feeling something in my back pop. Then I move to get off the couch, move so that I can head to the bedroom whilst also escaping the look I know Usagi-san is giving me right now. Suddenly a hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

" _Misaki_ …"

I turn to look at Usagi-san, who looks pretty tired and miserable, and again wait for the moment when he pulls me into his warmth and proceeds to kiss me senseless.

But he doesn't. He just looks hopelessly at me. And I, in turn, stare hopelessly back at him. A mutual thought passes between us: _What do you need from me?_

"I need to go to sleep, Usagi-san. E-Excuse me," I say, pulling my wrist out of his grasp and hurrying up the stairs before he can protest.

When I come downstairs the next morning, he's still there – just sitting there thoughtfully on the couch, almost curled into himself. He could have sat there all night if he wanted, and I suspect he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday's don't get much easier once you leave school. In fact, I think they only become more difficult depending on where you choose to work afterwards. Lucky for me, I'll have tons of practice dealing with Mondays now that I'm working a full-time job, mostly because _every day_ feels like Monday where I work.

"M-Misaki? Is that you?"

Especially right now, because there's a pile of _someone_ collapsed at my feet. His hand is outstretched with a coffee mug, and it's kind of amazing that he didn't spill it considering he's kneeling as though he's praying or taking a nap. With the editorial department nearing the end of "the cycle", it's most likely both of those things. You may think it odd to find someone huddled at your feet the second you step off an elevator, but this is the second time this week it's happened to me.

"Ah, Kisa! Are you alright?" I ask urgently, quickly bending over to make sure he's still breathing. I'm not sure what I could do if he had a heart attack right here on the floor. With any luck he's just collapsed with exhaustion.

"…eh?"

I huff in exasperation and move to pick the poor man up. "Honestly, Kisa. If you're going to take a nap, do it at your desk. I could've tripped over you."

"S-Sorry," he mumbles into my shoulder as we limp together to the Emerald department.

I'm kind of grateful for the way things worked out for me here. I've spoken with the editors in Kisa's department often, and while they're all pretty likable and charismatic, they always seem overworked or completely out of it. I had originally intended to become an editor myself, like Kisa, but instead was placed in Sales due to a competitive number of aspiring editors. So now I'm a sales assistant, something I never would have considered because of my past history with mathematics – but Usagi-san had suggested it because he thought I was sociable enough to make it work.

 _It's difficult work..._

We finally reach the Emerald department, and the space is wallowing in anxiety and exhaustion. I manage to place Kisa back in his chair, only for him to go completely limp again, his head falling back and his tongue dangling to one side almost comically. Everyone else seems equally dead both inside and out.

 _...but at least I don't look like this right now_.

I wave and blurt out a quick goodbye before continuing on my way. I had been hoping to check on the progress of the manuscript, but I have other things to do. I wouldn't have received a straight answer from them, anyways. Not in the state they're in.

I admit I'm also content with being so occupied. This job really presses me for time, but it's good to be distracted sometimes. I don't have to think about the future, about how I'm going to return home only to sit in an awkward silence until bedtime. And after that, I'll either immediately retreat to my own room or stay up awhile longer and wait for Usagi-san to whisk me off to bed like his personal teddy-bear. But that hasn't happened since before Takahiro came down for my graduation. It's worrying, really, and the additional stress of a job has made it even more difficult to talk to Usagi-san. I'm grateful that he gives me space, but I don't want things to be this way between us.

I guess…I miss talking to him.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check it almost immediately. I was pretty handy with my phone before I started working full-time because Usagi-san liked to keep tabs on me. However, it isn't Usagi-san texting me this time, he never texts me anymore anyways, but rather the head of our department.

 _Meeting plans have changed. 1:45 Roastery. Thx._

 _Sent 1:16 PM._

"Crap, crap, crap" I whisper to myself in a mantra, hurrying back to my desk to grab my things. It'd be about a forty-five minute walk, and I don't have that kind of time.

 _I'll have to take the subway_ , I think as I throw myself back into the elevator. I meet with the head of our department almost weekly, but have come to learn that the man enjoys meeting in social spaces away from the office. I guess I'd be smart to remember that the next time I want to actually make it to a meeting _on time._

* * *

I end up making it to the meeting almost twenty minutes late, but lucky for me he ends up being almost thirty minutes late. When we finally manage to finish up I decide to stay and eat something because I'm starving and didn't even have time to grab a quick breakfast today, let alone a full lunch. This place is very nice and relaxing anyways with clean, contemporary décor and a lively atmosphere. I order another cup of coffee and a pastry and hurry outside to snag myself a seat overlooking the city. People-watching tends to soothe my mind, and right now I could use some serious soothing.

After some time passes in which I've done little more but scroll through my messages and sip at my coffee, I'm disturbed from my compulsive daydreaming with the realization that I'm slacking off. Contrary to the stereotypes of this industry, I don't get paid to drink coffee and look semi-professional. I sigh and quickly shove my phone into my pocket, then reach down to grab my bag full of paperwork and other necessities. As long I'm sitting here, I may as well get some work done.

However, being the klutz that I am, the bag slips from my fingers as I attempt to grab it and the papers fall out in droves, almost laughing at me as they scatter around the deck of the coffee shop and float aimlessly, further and further away from me.

"AH! No, WAIT!" I screech, leaping off of my chair, diving head-first for the papers, "I had you all organized!"

I fall on my face and scurry belly-first across the deck, grabbing papers along the way. I must look pretty stupid like this, but at this point I'm not really concerned with looking professional. I need to get those papers back in order and _then_ I need to return to work before I'm fired for laziness or something. With my luck, I'd be fired for littering at this point.

I feel extremely relieved as I retrieve nearly every paper, except for one. And just my luck, the paper contains a list of _very_ important phone numbers. I look around frantically before I finally see it, loitering at the opposite end of the deck.

"HA!" I exclaim, diving for it like I did the others. Before I can reach it, however, a breeze picks it up and tries to carry it over the side of the deck. I panic, clawing for dear life so that I can grab it in time, blocking out the faint sound of laughing behind me. For a brief second I accept defeat, as it's about to fly straight over the edge, but then another hand shoots over my head and catches it, almost gracefully, before it can drift out of reach.

"Aha!" someone says, and when I look up there's a girl standing over me. She has the paper in her hand and gives it a once-over before handing it back to me, grinning merrily. "Wouldn't want to lose this!" she exclaims, nudging the paper into my forehead. I realize then that not only am I still kneeling on the ground, but, embarrassingly enough, I'm also kind of staring at this girl above me.

 _Where on earth did she come from?_

 _Oh no. Did she see ALL OF THAT?_

My cheeks flush and I immediately grab the paper from her (easily, because she's practically shoving it into my face at this point). "Ah, thank you," I say quickly, moving to stand up so that I can thank her properly.

"I'm sorry," she giggles from behind her hand. I notice that her face is red, probably just as red as mine. I really hope I didn't embarrass her with that whole charade. I almost consider apologizing myself, but decide against it. "I don't mean to laugh, but that was the funniest thing I've seen all week," she smiles sympathetically. "You must think I'm a sadist."

I kind of just blink at her for a moment, not really sure how to respond and still terribly embarrassed. After a few moments, however, I manage to pull myself together and smile sheepishly back.

"Ha, well I guess it was pretty funny. If it helps, you don't look like a sadist to me."

"Hm," she puts her pointer-finger to her chin thoughtfully, "and what do sadists look like?"

"Well, I've never seen one in real life," I snicker, "but if you were one, you'd probably either knock me back down or let the paper fall over the railing."

"Noted and filed for next time, then."

We laugh again and I'm feeling a lot lighter now that I'm actually conversing with someone. I was so tuned into my work for most of the morning that I missed a lot of the social interaction that keeps me up and going. This is nice, just some casual banter between strangers.

"Misaki Takahashi," I say, extending my hand to her. She smiles warmly back at me and takes it, and then I notice how strong and confident her grip is. You kind of learn how to read handshakes when you've been in this business for awhile.

"Minako Hayashi," she chirps, and my brain crashes.

She's trying to shake my hand but I'm frozen now, and when her face falls and she tries to take her hand back I can't seem to let go, either.

"Um," she quirks her head in concern, "are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I break out of my trance and take my hand back, rubbing it against my pants and fidgeting nervously. Of course my luck would see fit to introduce me to _her_. This was the girl niichan wanted to introduce me to…because he thought we'd make a good _couple_. Was this fate's way of messing with me? Was I stuck in the middle of my own cheesy romantic anime? There couldn't be any explanation for this completely _random_ occurrence. There just couldn't be…

"Y-Yes! Fine!" But I know I don't look fine. I'm almost shaking now, and my face must be a rainbow of colors at this point. I honestly don't know how to feel. I decide that I need to calm down, though. Even if fate hasn't purposefully pushed us together, I find that I'm still open to knowing this girl on some level. I'd rather her first impression of me not be that I'm awkward or incapable of social interaction…even though I feel like that isn't far from the truth, in some respects. Especially right now.

"It's just," I begin, glancing down at my feet nervously, "I recognize your name. I-I think you know my brother. Takahiro?"

As I expected, her expression contorts into one of realization and then one of honest excitement. I can't help but feel relieved, and a little warmed by it as well.

"You! Oh my – it's you! You're Takahiro's brother! Of course, the last names. I really should've guessed," her hands are pressed to her face in wonder and I notice as she shifts closer to me. "He's told me so much about you, like how responsible you are and how devoted you are to your family – such admirable characteristics," she hums thoughtfully, glancing to one side and…blushing lightly?

It doesn't matter because I'm smiling too, and also undoubtedly blushing. I probably have been since we started talking.

"He's mentioned you too," I say honestly, although I probably shouldn't elaborate on what exactly was said.

"Well I hope nothing embarrassing!" she squawks, feigning horror. Her face quickly morphs back into a warm smile, though, and I'm surprised to find that I enjoy looking at it.

 _It feels like it' s been so long..._

"Well," she continues when I say nothing, "if you want to, we should really hang out. But we don't have to," she adds quickly, "I just feel like we'd make really good friends." She's blushing again, but her smile is open and sincere. I admit to myself that she's cute, but I'm also nervous. What would Usagi-san say if I started hanging out with her? I've typically only been hit on by other men, so maybe he wouldn't think anything of it – not that I think she's hitting on me! It's just…

 _You said you were thinking about getting a girlfriend. You implied it to him._

"I'd love to!" I exclaim happily before I can make the situation even more awkward. Even if this meeting is completely coincidental, I'd like to try befriending this girl.

 _Of course nothing will come from it. You're still with Usagi-san aren't you?_

 _It's always been him. It's always been him because you lo-_

"Great!" her eyes crinkle at the corners and she looks relieved.

They're brown, too. Such a warm brown.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

...

So I know literally nothing about publishing houses. Woops. ;_; Sorry if this came out awkward or unrealistic.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note:_

Well this took awhile. Haha. Anyways, we get to know a little more about Minako in this chapter and Misaki has some more self-realizations. Woo hoo.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. ^^

Enjoy!

* * *

When I return to the flat, I'm relieved to find that it's empty. There's no sign of Usagi-san anywhere.

 _Hm. Relieved? Why are you always so relieved when he's not here?_

I grimace, staring blankly at the floor. I realize that it's true, that most days I actually look forward to coming home to peace and quiet; if Usagi-san are supposed to be….well, _lovers_ …then shouldn't I come home eager for him? Granted, I wouldn't exactly consider myself a housewife. I mean, I am a man after all.

 _And yet you cook and clean and wear a cute, frilly apron like a housewife._

I can feel my face growing red with shame.

 _And when Usagi-san comes home from work, he instantly grabs you and has his way with you as if you were his wife._

"Usually without my permission," I murmur to myself. I guess I never realized…how small my voice was in comparison to his. I mean, when he wants something he just takes, and takes, _and takes_. But when I want something, he ignores me for his own pleasure.

I'm getting irritated now, and the red has probably consumed my face at this point. My fists are clenched.

This really does bother me, _has_ been bothering me for sometime now. In the end there's really nothing wrong with being a housewife. I don't mind cooking for Usagi-san or cleaning for him; I've always done it. I've been keeping my place by his side. He works enough for the both of us. He needs my support, because that's what you're supposed to do in a…um, _relationship_ : you support each other.

 _"And then we'll be equals," I say smiling, but his face twists into one of discouragement._

I'm temporarily broken free of my thoughts, realizing that I should be starting dinner at this point. Usagi-san will be home in about an hour, after all. I make my way to the kitchen, tie my apron on really quick, and then begin to flip through a cookbook. Unfortunately all my creative impulses have been zapped ever since I began working full-time. Tonight I'll just follow a recipe and call it good, and it isn't like he will know any better anyways.

As I settle on a recipe and begin to chop some vegetables, I catch myself thinking about all of the vulnerable aspects of our relationship. I'd like to move forward, because right now I feel permanently stuck in a role that I do not wish to fill. But at the same time, we can't move forward unless he wants to as well. He had said that it was time I made my own experiences, created a life for myself, so did that mean he was ready to end everything for my sake?

 _It would certainly make things easier._

But knowing Usagi-san, he wouldn't let go even if he knew it was right. He's always been very…possessive of me. Not that being possessive is a bad thing, it's just –

 _It's kind of a bad thing. Remember what happened with Sumi-senpai? Or Haruhiko Usami? Or Kyo Ijuuin?_

Okay, so maybe his possessiveness makes me feel kind of shitty sometimes. Everyone deserves a chance to grow and learn from their mistakes, though. I've grown a lot in the past year, both professionally and emotionally. But even now, I'm still growing, and it makes me happy when Usagi-san notices how hard I'm trying.

I guess, even after everything, I still want to impress him.

 _But do you want to be with him? That's the question you need to ask yourself._

Okay, so maybe I haven't been exactly tolerant of ALL the attention he enjoys lavishing upon me. Maybe I've been a little… _judgmental_ of this lifestyle we share together. Everyone deserves time to adjust, though. Like I said, I'm still growing.

 _You've been trying to 'adjust' to this relationship for nearly five years now._

I swallow hard. My eyes are watering. I didn't think I bought onions yesterday.

 _You NEED to move forward._

I look down and realize there are no onions, but my eyes are misty regardless. In the end, I know that my internal dialogue is right. I can't excuse Usagi-san's faults forever. And I can't excuse my own. If we're going to grow together, then we need to meet in the middle.

The phone rings suddenly, making me jump, and I run my arm across my eyes real fast before scurrying over to it. As if the person over the phone would _actually_ be able to see me cry.

"Hello? This is Misaki," I answer, and I'm met with an oddly familiar voice.

"Good evening, Misaki! It's Minako Hayashi."

I'm frozen there, the phone stuck to my ear, and I feel stupid because I haven't even replied before she continues speaking. Was that pause uncomfortable? Does she feel like I don't want to talk to her? I mean, technically I don't because I'm not in the right mindset to be talking to a lady…not when I'm so tossed-up about _other matters_.

 _Usagi-san is going to be home in less than forty-five minutes, and you haven't even STARTED cooking._

I realize then that she's stopped talking. I didn't even manage to catch what she said. Did she ask me something?

"Um, I'm sorry, Miss Hayashi. I'm a little distracted and didn't catch any of that."

"Oh," she says. She sounds disoriented, but thankfully not irritated. "Well, I had asked if you wanted to come to my flat for dinner tonight."

My mind is shutting down. I'm clutching the phone so hard that it feels like it's going to shatter under my grip. It's taking everything I have not to reply insensibly, because A GIRL has just asked me out TO DINNER.

"Oh," she interjects quickly before I have a chance to say anything, "and don't worry about bringing anything, because I'm cooking!"

AND SHE'S COOKING.

I expect to be filled with horror at this invitation, knowing well that I would regretfully decline the invitation and then finish cooking Usagi-san's dinner until bedtime, at which point he would grab me and carry me off to his room to satisfy my perpetual loneliness. I hate turning down invitations.

However, I then surprise myself by answering, "Y-Yeah. Yeah! Sure, I'd love to."

 _Did I really just…accept her invitation? Am I really going to have dinner with a girl? At her flat? Without Usagi-san's permission? Without even making him dinner?_

"I'm glad," she says, and I can hear her rustling around in the background. It's been so long since anyone's cooked for me. This might actually be pleasant. "I'll have everything prepared in about thirty minutes, but you can stop by early if you'd like. I live in the Kakinokizaka Apartments, if you know where those are at. Apartment 310."

I reach for a pen and paper and scribble down the details quickly, cradling the phone with my shoulder.

"Sounds great! I'll be there in about twenty minutes," I respond happily.

"Wonderful!" she chirps, and it's so shrill that I wince, but I'm also grinning stupidly. But then I remember something before I hang up, and so as she begins to say goodbye, I quickly interrupt her.

"Wait, Minako?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get this number?" A pause.

"…This is the number you gave me, silly."

Well, shit. I honestly should have known better. After what I said to Usagi-san about possibly getting a girlfriend, giving out our shared phone number to random women is probably not a wise move. I don't even want to consider what could have happened if he had answered Minako's call instead.

"Ah, well, you see…I-I shouldn't have given you _this_ number. My roommate and I share the phone and sometimes he can be…"

"Nosy?"

 _Well, that's one way to put it._

"Yeah, exactly."

"That's okay," she says, and I'm relieved because she sounds amused, not suspicious. "Just give me your cell when you get here."

"Y-Yeah, okay," I laugh, nervous for some reason.

"Okay," she laughs, and then she hangs up. I remove the phone from my ear and stare at it for a few moments, surprised. And then I begin to worry that she truly was suspicious. The last thing I need is her reporting any suspicions to niichan. I figure, however, that I'm being silly and somewhat rude – after all she _did_ invite me to dinner, and now instead of being grateful I'm fumbling with my anxiety and doubting her intentions. Baka.

The door opens then, and Usagi-san steps in looking _slightly_ less exhausted, but as soon as he shuts the door he is leaning backwards against it, sighing lowly and dragging a hand across his face. He doesn't acknowledge me for a few moments. Instead, he's rubbing at his temple and I'm watching him. When he finally does look at me, he doesn't look happy. Yet, he doesn't look discouraged or sad either, which is a blessing; I can't work with a sad Usagi-san.

But he does look mildly irritated, and while I _can_ work with that, I don't necessarily w _ant_ to.

"How was your day?" he asks, staring me down. I clear my throat a couple times, looking everywhere but at him. His gaze remains glued on me, however.

"Fine," I finally shrug, moving to step out of his way. I walk slowly towards the kitchen and look despairingly down at the unprepared meal. My mind is racing for an alternative, because I need to start heading to Minako's soon. I feel him come up behind me, but he doesn't touch me. He's so close, though. I realize that he's staring over my shoulder at the half-chopped vegetables and clean cooking-pot.

"Late dinner?"

"Mm," I nod at first, then bite my lip and turn to face him. "Actually, I-I sort of got invited to dinner. I may go there tonight, instead…I mean, I wouldn't want to be rude," I explain. I'm still not looking him in the eyes. I'm kind of staring at his chest, actually. That's awkward.

He blinks at me, twice, obviously unimpressed. I prepare myself for him whining about how he's _so hungry_ and how he _cannot possibly wait_ until I come home, but those words never leave his lips. In fact, he isn't whining at all. His face starts to shift once he processes that I was invited to dinner _without him_. His eyes widen with the beginnings of panic, though at the moment he just looks curious.

"Dinner? Who invited you to dinner?"

"A friend," I answer, kicking my foot out rhythmically.

"Which friend?" Still curious.

"A girl I met," I start to say, and I can see him mouthing the words, as if assessing the possibility that I actually went out and got myself a girlfriend. "Her name is Minako Hayashi. She's very sweet and nice, and she invited me over tonight."

Realization washes over his face.

"Minako Hayashi?" he echoes. "That's the girl Takahiro was wanting to set you up with." It isn't a question.

"Yeah, I know. Strange coincidence, huh?" I try and force a laugh, but it sounds weak. I know he won't take this well. The situation between us was weird enough, and now he's going to be even more possessive than ever. I close my eyes and clench my fists, preparing for his objections…but they don't come. Instead, when I open my eyes again, he smiling at me…albeit, sadly.

"I'm glad you met her," he says, "and I'm glad that you're making friends. I was worried that leaving school would isolate you. Now I see that I was wrong."

I'm stunned. I didn't expect praise, not from Usagi-san. If this had been a boy he would have forbidden me from seeing him. I would have been swept off to his bedroom and locked away for months. But now…he's happy for me?

However, looking into his eyes, I know that happiness is the last emotion he's feeling. His eyes are too sad. I fight the urge to hug him.

"O-Oh. Well, I'm glad you finally see that I'm perfectly capable of networking," I boast, but it comes out flat. "Anyways, I apologize that dinner wasn't ready tonight," I say, rushing past him so that I can grab my coat. As I'm pulling my arms through the sleeves, I glance back at him. He's not looking at me, though. He's staring out the window.

"Don't concern yourself with it," he says, "I'll just order out."

"Great," I say, grabbing my cell and stuffing it in my pocket. I turn to look at him one last time before I leave, but he's still facing the other way – staring blankly out the window. "Well, goodbye," I say, stepping into the hall.

Before I shut the door, I faintly hear Usagi-san choke or cough. Sob, maybe? I shrug and lock the door behind me, telling myself that I imagined it.

* * *

Minako's apartment is nice enough. It's spacious enough for two people, even though Minako lives there by herself, but just small enough to be rather cozy. It has a nice kitchen, two bedrooms, and one bathroom. Minako also has a cat named Yasu, a fat white cat that never leaves the sofa. Altogether, I'm feeling very comfortable and at home, and the smells wafting in from the kitchen certainly help. As I sit on Minako's sofa, glancing around and stroking Yasu repeatedly, I think to myself how much easier this place must be to clean than a place like Usagi-san's penthouse.

"I see you two are getting along," Minako says, suddenly beside me. She hands me a cup of tea, and I take it gratefully.

"I never really liked cats," I admit, smiling down at Yasu, "but he's growing on me."

"Yasu is a _she_ ," Minako giggles, and I swear I can hear Yasu growl next to me. It figures I would accidentally offend Minako's cat.

"Anyways, dinner is served," Minako smiles, and I try (and fail) to hide my enthusiasm as I follow her into the kitchen.

The meal Minako has prepared is not gourmet in the least; actually, it reminds me of my college days, but the soup she has made (which contains a ton of cabbage, judging by the taste) is warm and thick and makes me feel at home. The tea helps warm me, too, and I find that all the warmth in this apartment contrasts greatly with the cold outside and the cold within my heart.

I blush, because that line must have come straight out of one of Usagi-san's romance novels.

To avoid embarrassing myself further with my own thoughts, I turn my attention to Minako, who at the moment is stuffing her face with rice. It's sticking to her and falling off her cheeks and onto the table in little clumps. I feel as though I should be disgusted, but I'm only amused. In fact, I begin to giggle, and that in turn forces Minako to look up at me.

"What?" she asks, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Nothing, it's just…I love your enthusiasm when you eat," I chuckle, rubbing my neck nervously.

"Oh," she croaks, pausing for a second to stare down at her bowl. Then, at lightning speed, she grabs a napkin and makes quick work of cleaning her face. She lowers the napkin into her lap and fiddles with it, her face _extremely_ red, and I feel bad knowing that I've embarrassed her.

"It's okay," I say quickly, waving my hands in front of my face, "I'm a sloppy eater too!"

To prove my point, I scoop an entire spoon-full of soup into my mouth – but then my mouth is filled to the brim, and some of the soup leaks out and trails down my chin. I must look like an idiot, but I swallow and grin at her anyways.

I guess my antics must have done the trick, because then the blush is gone from her face and she's laughing out loud at me. I like the way it sounds, almost like wind chimes except…livelier? More human? This simile is going nowhere.

"You don't have to be a goof for me," she says gently, "I'm already enough of a goof."

"There's nothing wrong with that," I shrug. She looks pleased, and blinks at me in what appears to be quiet admiration.

"You're so nice," she says, and then, catching me off guard, adds, "just like Takahiro. You know, it's no wonder your roommate is so fond of you."

I choke on my rice.

"What? My roommate?"

"Yes," she says, sipping her tea obliviously, "Takahiro told me, when he was telling me about you, that you and your roommate get along amazingly well. He said he'd have to pry you out of Usami's hands just to get you to leave. I think it's sweet."

I'm not really sure how to respond, so I don't. I offer her what I know is an insincere smile, and turn my attention back to my food. Hopefully she isn't good at reading people.

"Luckily for me, I'm good at reading people."

Fuck.

"I can tell that you want to leave," she says then, looking concerned, "it's all over your face."

"I-It is?" I say, playing along.

"Yeah, it's pretty clear from where I'm sitting. Obviously Mr. Usami adores you, and that's great; it just means you're really personable. But I can tell that you're looking for a way to move on. Maybe it's because Takahiro and Mr. Usami were such good friends, so now you feel as though you're still trapped under your brother's watchful gaze," she whispers, eyes moving around suspiciously as if the walls had grown ears.

"After all," she continues, "I moved out here because I wanted to get away from _my_ parents. I was tired of them meddling in my business all the time. If I want to get into blogging, that should be _my_ decision, don't you think?"

At this point she's pretty much lost me. I'm overwhelmed and confused by my own thoughts, but I nod at her regardless, pretending that I had heard what she was talking about. Something about being a blogger? Wait.

"You blog?"

"Sure do," she grins excitedly. "I want to be travel blogger, maybe go to the United States and see the sights, and then move on to Canada or even Mexico. I have an obsession with the Americas," she explains, fiddling with her hands again.

"Ah, that's really cool!"

"Really?" she chirps loudly, and I can't stop myself from smiling affectionately. The way she looks right now, eager for someone's approval, reminds me of myself in a way.

"Yeah, I'd love to travel! And I don't blame you for needing to get away from your parents. I mean, you were right. Sometimes I _do_ feel smothered by my brother. But then," I trail off as a new fear consumes me, "why are you still here? Why aren't you traveling?"

I'm afraid of the answer. So far I've been really enjoying my time with Minako, and knowing that she may be on the verge of leaving would probably devastate me. But thankfully, she closes her eyes and a wistful look appears on her features.

"I can't go anywhere. Not yet. Not until I'm financially stable, which is why I'm working at that café where we first met."  
"You work there?" This is news to me. I can't remember ever seeing her before the moment we met. She nods, opening her eyes again and sipping at her tea.

"When I finally get the money, then I'll go. Until then, I guess you're stuck with me."

We share a smile, equally quiet, equally searching for something in the others' eyes. She especially is studying my expression hard, and I can tell that she wants to ask me something.

"What is it?" I ask, and she stares blankly at me for a second.

"What's what?" she replies, feigning obliviousness.

"The question you want to ask me."

She blinks at me again, and the blank look melts into a secretive sort of smile.

"Glad to see I'm not the only one who can read people," she laughs under her breath. "Fine then, I'll just come right out and say it: I like you, Misaki. My rent is pretty high, but if I find a roommate things will be much easier for me in the long-run. I'll be able to save a lot more money to fly to the States, and life will be good," she says, reclining back in her chair and tossing her arms over her head in excitement.

"So…" I begin, backtracking to make sure I'm not misunderstanding her, "…you want me to move in?"

"Only if you want to!" she interjects quickly, straightening up again. "Please don't feel pressured. I know you're going to need time to think about this, and I'm willing to give you all the time you need." She glances down and her face is lightly flushed, but I don't fault her because mine is probably beet red.

I pause to think about what this means for Usagi-san and I. If I leave, that may be the end of us. We may never speak to each other again, and what with Usagi-san's weird mood as of late, he might even be relieved that I'm gone. The thought makes me want to shrivel up inside. Still, Minako was right about at least one thing: I am looking for a way to move on. I need to find something stable in my life, something that I know is going to last. Now that I have a full-time job, and now that I'm done with college, it's about time for me to settle down. Niichan is waiting for it, and I can't let him down because that would just kill me.

And what if separation ends up benefitting us? I could always use more time to grow and Usagi-san, well…Usagi-san needs some time to get over himself, I think. He could grow up some, too. There are days where I think he's still just a big man-child. And if it doesn't and we do end up...forgetting each other…

 _You don't want him to forget…_

 _...but if it does happen…_

I lift my head, finally looking back at Minako. She looks at me for a moment, not exactly smiling but still hopeful. I hum to myself, giving it one last thought, and then I answer, "I'll talk to my roommate about it."

Her eyes remain fixed on mine for a few seconds after, and then they brighten considerably. We share a smile, and I don't feel quite so nervous.

 _...then at least Minako will still be here._


	5. Chapter 5

The lights are all off when I make it back to the flat. The door creaks ominously, and I step inside and shrug out of my jacket as quietly as possible. Nothing stirs as I walk steadily to the kitchen, feeling my way around in the dark to avoid turning on any lights. I'm not eager to disturb Usagi-san if he's sleeping. I peer into the kitchen and notice the piles of trash and half-eaten food on the countertops; my nose crinkles in disgust. There are also open bottles of liquor everywhere, and I can't help but wonder if Usagi-san had a party while I was away. Maybe he's out with friends or something. Or maybe he drank himself into a stupor.

I sigh to myself as I begin to clean, turning on the oven light so that I can see better. It stinks heavily of alcohol now, and I wince as I poor some of the remaining contents down the drain. This is strong stuff.

I'm so focused on my cleaning that I hardly notice the figure lounging on the sofa behind me, that is until I hear someone sigh my name with such unbelievable _longing_ that I'm temporarily thrown off guard.

" _Misaki_ ," he says. I turn with a yelp, startled, and then my shoulders relax as Usagi-san pulls himself into a sitting position and stares at me in a daze, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I guess he _did_ drink himself into a stupor.

"Hey, shouldn't you be in bed?" I ask as sternly as possible. It probably doesn't come off that way; I'm trembling everywhere.

He doesn't answer immediately. He looks lost and confused, and maybe just a tad upset, too. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to leave him to his own devices. I could have probably prevented all of this…and would have had less of a mess to deal with in the long-run. He glances around the room, putting the pieces together in his mind, and then looks back at me. His mouth is hanging open slightly, and I almost expect him to start wailing for some reason. He looks as though he's either going to cry or say something thought-provoking. He blinks at me in disbelief for a second, and then he shakily lifts himself off the sofa and on to his feet, wobbling slightly as he does it. He looks at his feet, then looks back at me – again, with such intense longing that I almost want to cry myself – and he shuffles toward me with one hand barely lifted from his side as if he doesn't have the energy to stretch it out any further.

I stare at him as he comes closer, my face red with embarrassment, and I swear internally that I will never allow myself to see him this drunk again. He collapses onto me with a tired sigh. It sounds somewhat relieved, and it occurs to me that he was waiting for me to return this whole time.

 _Usagi-san…_

"Usagi-san?" I mumble into his shoulder. He releases a ragged breath into my neck. His breath reeks of the liquor; I really hope he didn't drink it all himself. His fingers dance along my waist, tickling me but I can't laugh. Then they start stroking my sides in a more intimate gesture, but I don't find myself aroused either. I don't really know what to think.

"Misaki," he says, his voice clearer now. He manages to move his head from my shoulder and looks me in the eyes. His are bloodshot, and the skin around them is also puffy with irritation. He must have been crying; maybe he's a sad drunk. We stare at each other for awhile, though very little actually passes between our eyes. I try to glance away, too nervous to truly look him in the eyes, and he stares through me as if I were a ghost. Then his hands dance up my arms, lightly tickling me there, and they clutch onto my shoulders fiercely. I hiss with pain and look back up at him in panic. He's still staring through me, though his eyes are blurry with barely-suppressed rage. He leans down and kisses me on the mouth – hard.

I try to back away, but his nails are digging into my skin and keeping me there. My eyes are clenched shut and I try to move my face to gasp for air, or maybe just to get away in general. His breath stinks and his mouth tastes awful. His tongue worms its way into my mouth and I bite, not too hard but hard enough that he yelps and stumbles backwards. Unfortunately, I misjudged just how tightly he was holding me in the first place, and so as he falls backwards I have no choice but to join him on the floor. We land with a simultaneous _oof_ and lay there in a daze for a few seconds.

I'm laying on his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around me, his breathing rapid and his heartbeat thudding against my ear. It's…almost relaxing. I begin stroking my fingers along his chest in apology, hoping that I didn't hurt him too much with that bite. I know he's drunk. I know he didn't mean to corner me like that.

 _He always corners you like that you stupid, stupid…_

I clench my eyes shut again and the tears of frustration begin to well up beneath my lids.

Usagi-san is very still beneath me, and I wonder if I knocked him out, but then his hands start rubbing patterns on my back, picking at my sweater-vest, rolling up the tail of my shirt so that he can move his hands under and then…

"H-Hey!" I exclaim, sitting up so that I'm looking down at him. I quickly wipe the tears away before he has a chance to process that I'm crying. His face is shrouded in darkness – shadowed by my body. His silver hair is framed by a golden halo of light – the light from the kitchen. He looks angelic and demonic all at once. He moves quickly, a sign that the alcohol might be wearing off, and switches our positions before I have a chance to even squeal. He rolls me over so that I'm beneath him, and I pound on his chest in frustration as he bites the lobe of my ear, then moves back down to capture my lips. One hand practically rips through my hair, stroking roughly. The other hand reaches down and unfastens my belt, fiddling with the hem of my pants. They come off rather easily, and I can see the hunger in his eyes when he releases my lips, letting me breathe for just an instant, and looks down to stare at the bulge in my boxers. I don't want to have sex when he's in this state. I don't want to have sex when there's so many unspoken words between us. My erection appears to him as a sign of consent, and I can't find the breath to tell him otherwise as his mouth finds mine once more.

I feel weak for a moment. I know I'm crying again and I know he'll probably notice, but maybe it's for the best that he sees. I'm so confused. I don't know what it is I want from him anymore, what I expect from him, but he knows what he wants – and now he's taking it. I can't let him.

He manages to pull my underwear down enough to free my member, only half-hard at the moment but nearly erect. He locks my wrists to the floor with his large hands, bending low and licking at my cock. I begin to tremble and whine, tears streaming down my cheeks. It feels so good, but it's also wrong. He's not giving me a chance to speak. He's not giving me a chance to take control, to aspire to my own pleasure, to take what I want for myself without his permission. He takes my cock into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the head, causing me to squeal loudly. He purrs around my cock, one hand releasing my wrist so that he can reach under my shirt to pinch a nipple. I bite my lip to muffle a scream and taste my own blood.

I begin to pant; my hips are gyrating on their own accord now. My eyes are squeezed shut and I lick my lips occasionally, the taste of blood still lingering, and he slurps on my cock. I open one eye to watch his task; there's a large tent in his pants. On any other night I might try to pleasure him myself, reach inside his pants and take hold of his cock – get it nice and wet and dripping until he can't comprehend anything other than my touch, my lips, my tongue: _me_.

Unfortunately, tonight is not that night. The way things are going now, it might never be that night ever again. His mouth feels good, so very good, and I begin to purr as well, but as I reach down to stroke his soft hair, the fingers playing with my nipple pauses in their ministrations, and suddenly Usagi-san grabs my hand and _forces it_ back above my head. His fingers lock around my wrist and he squeezes hard, so hard that it's actually quite painful. I whimper, and then I…well, I become _really_ pissed. I don't want this. I'm not giving in to him. I just don't feel like dealing with his bullshit tonight.

He's trying to lift my legs up with his body, grinding into me, shoving me with his hips into the position he wants me in. His hands are still occupied, trying to hold me still. Then Usagi-san takes both my wrists with one hand, freeing the other so he can fiddle with his own belt. The foreplay is done, and now he probably just wants to fuck me and be done with it – mark me with his cum and leave me sore and embarrassed and, worst of all, waiting for him to take me all over again. It's a never-ending cycle with us.

I refuse to just take it this time. I refuse. One of my legs wiggles free, and even though I almost pull a muscle doing it, I manage to place my foot on his shoulder. And then that's it: I kick him so hard that he tumbles backwards. My wrists are released and everything is throbbing. I stand up quickly, pull my underwear back on, and cross my arms in my best attempt to look like the alpha male for once.

"No," I say, my voice trembling. Shit, I'm going to start crying again. "I'm not doing this with you – not anymore."  
He groans, rubbing his shoulder. The pain is evident on his face, but it quickly morphs into his regular controlled anger as he glares back at me. He stands at attention, even forgetting to tuck his cock back into his pants as he glowers down at me. The great Akihiko Usami stands before me, angry and horny and altogether the alpha male. I want to cry and beg for mercy and scramble away all at once. But for once I don't do any of those things; I just stand there.

"This isn't a fucking relationship," I bark. "You can't just fucking use me like some kind of sex toy. You can't just block out everything I say and only listen to your dick. I deserve to be heard."  
He's eyeing me almost cautiously, and even though he's pissed as fuck I can tell that he's at least thinking intelligently again. He's undoubtedly still drunk though, so I decide to tread carefully from this point forward. His eyes are calm, though, calm and searching. He even glances down and tucks himself back in, buckling his pants so that he appears respectable again. It's still not enough.

He sighs, brushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

"I've heard you for weeks now. You've got a job and you're finally settling into adulthood. I've heard it all."

"And I thought you'd be proud of me."

"I am," he says then, as if there were never any doubt.

"But you're not hearing me now," I point out.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" he raises an eyebrow, leaning back again the countertop in an uncharacteristically casual way.

"I-I'm trying to say," I fiddle with my words. I don't know what I'm trying to say, honestly. It's bit deeper than _I don't want to have sex right now_. But it isn't as drastic as _I want to break up_. It's somewhere in the middle.

 _I want you to listen to me more often._

 _I want you to take me seriously._

 _I want Takahiro to stay out of our fucking business._

 _I want to take more chances, but you need to support my decisions either way._

 _I want to love you. I want to love you, but I'm afraid._

 _Just take me upstairs and fuck me until I shut up._

 _No. I want to be respected. This – what we have…_

"…It isn't healthy," I finally decide on.

"What isn't?" he replies, his voice smooth as ever.

I glance around, anywhere but into his eyes, and then I look up at him, almost meekly. I whisper, "Us."

"What do you mean?" His voice lowers. A warning.

"How can I possibly explain it to you? It's just something I know…like, like when you see celebrity couples on TV and you're like, 'How the hell have they been together this long?'. It's like that,"  
I say, and it sounds pathetic when I repeat it in my mind. It's like I'm not even sure why we shouldn't be together, but I still don't think we can work anymore. This hasn't worked in years. "It's like," I continue, because I can't shut up now, "I try to be independent and you say you're proud of me…and then you take control again. You act like the alpha male. But this isn't a pack and we aren't dogs," I point out stupidly. What a dumb metaphor. "This is – _should be_ – equal. I shouldn't have to suck you off whenever you ask me to. I should be able to be angry with you without being afraid. I shouldn't have to kick you off of me," I point at his shoulder, "…to get you off of me."

I close my eyes and lower my hands, my fists clenched. I wait for the anger, for him to advance or to just brush me off like I'm just some kid.

"You're right," he says. "You shouldn't have to."

What.

What the fu – did he just _agree_ with me?

"Maybe that's why you don't love me."

A flash of guilt courses through me, and then one of denial follows in its wake. I can't help but feel upset, for multiple reasons really. I mean, one moment I'm trying to make a point and then the next he's spouting off some insecure bullshit to try and make me feel guilty. And it's working. I think that's the part that pisses me off most.

"What the hell are you saying?" I step forward, angry tears springing to my eyes. God, I'm such a baby. I can't stop crying when I'm around him. Maybe I do need to leave. My fingers tighten into fists. Maybe I can punch that pitiful look right off his face. "Why are you accusing me of shit? I'm the one who's supposed to be angry here!"  
"I'm not accusing," he shrugs. He isn't meeting my eyes, which is very unusual for him. "I'm bringing the truth to the light."

"What truth? Of course I l-lo…" My face instantly flushes and, to my shame, I-I can't even finish the sentence. But it's just nerves, really. I'm a very…nervous individual. Just because I hesitate, doesn't mean that I don't…

"You can't even say it," he murmurs under his breath. "Even now, when you have everything to lose. You've always been hesitant."

His eyes are practically pinning me in place, almost like needles – and I'm the fragile butterfly stuck behind the glass. I'm being poked at and analyzed like some sort of experiment. I hate it. He speaks with so much arrogance, always, even now when we're in the middle of…a fight, I think….he can't swallow his pride.

"Asshole," I bite back, "that doesn't mean anything. Stop making yourself out to be some kind of martyr. 'Everything to lose'? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? The only thing I'm losing right now is my patience. I'm _suffocating_ here, Usagi-san! I'm a nervous wreck around you, you piss me off, you don't listen to anything I say, and you honestly think I lose sleep just because you don't feel loved?"

His knees buckle, but his expression has steeled itself off. He's somewhat sober now that he's faced with the truth of his actions. He rubs at his eyes and growls in pain and frustration, though I'm not sure if it's the argument or the alcohol giving him the most trouble.

"You're still…still such a kid," he says, meeting my eyes again. They aren't exactly pleading, but there is a spark somewhere in there – something asking me to understand. I can't find it in myself to try. Maybe that's just the kid in me being stubborn. "This has been going on for years, Misaki. You say you need time to adjust, but we've been doing this for years. I make love to you and you like it. We go to dinner and you're happy. We act like a normal couple at your request. But the years go by and nothing changes. Even now – even now you're still just as timid as you were when we first met."

I shiver at the way he says _make love_. Making love. I can't remember the last time either of us had phrased it like that, if we had ever phrased it like that at all. His words are piercing my heart now, and I really want to run upstairs and hide. Fall asleep. Forget this conversation ever happened.

"I've gotten better," I whisper in denial, glancing to one side. "I'm just a nervous person, Usagi-san."

"Not being able to say _I love you_ after being together for five years is not nerves, Misaki."

"You don't know," I hiss angrily. "You can't just assume that's how I feel about you. You don't _know_."

"You're right," he responds again. I'm beginning to hate being right. "I don't know how you feel about me. That's the problem."

I feel like we spend the next minute or so just glaring at each other, and breathing heavily. This is an intense conversation after all. I start to panic when I realize that this isn't something that can be solved overnight. We need to sort this out fast if we're going to live under the same roof.

 _You don't necessarily have to sort this out._

Wait…

 _You don't have to live here._

I don't want to have to resort to Minako. I don't want to take advantage of her, especially since I'm not quite sure where Usagi-san and I stand right now anyways. Our relationship has always fluctuated. We could hate each other one minute, and then be doing _other things_ the next. Still, her offer to move in is poking me in my subconscious. It might be better if we have space.

And I'm not entirely in the wrong here either, right? I mean, I've made mistakes. I have my faults, same as any person. But how am I supposed to have a mature relationship with Usagi-san if Usagi-san can't treat me like a mature adult?

The mature adult part of me wants to say that, to make my concerns clear, but of course I say nothing. We're both pouting now. The oven light is flickering, and everything else is still shrouded in darkness. Then Usagi-san moves forward, startling me, and grabs my wrist (which is already sore from his manhandling earlier). He tries to pull me closer to him, but I pull back with all my might.

"Let go, damn you," I growl through gritted teeth.

"No," he growls back, his grip tightening, "tell me how you feel about me."

"No," I sob, moving my other hand to his chest and pounding with all my might.

"Tell me what you want," he says urgently, eyes widening. I might be physically in pain, but I can see that pain reflected in his eyes. Emotional pain. This is getting out of hand.

"I WANT YOU TO LET GO!" I scream, smacking him in the face as hard as I possibly can. The smack echoes throughout the flat. He releases his crushing grip on my hand, much to my relief. I cry out and step as far back as possible until I feel my calves collide with the sofa. I cradle my aching hand to my chest, and watch helplessly as tiny droplets scatter around the angry red marks.

"Misaki?" He sounds concerned. I take a deep breath and find the courage to look at him. There's an angry red mark on his face; now we match. I blink at him and turn back to my injured wrist. Now that all the excitement's over, I can feel myself begin to crumble. I grip to the couch for dear life as my knees begin to wobble. I sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. And then I find the courage to speak.

"Let's stop this."

I look straight at him. I know my stance must lack authority; I probably look like a dog with its tail between its legs. Regardless, I don't flinch when our eyes meet. I don't shrink away from him. You shouldn't have to shrink away from your partner.

"Misaki?" he says again, still sounding concerned. Although this time his concern is laced with a hint of panic. I feel bad that hearing him panic satisfies me in some sick way.

"We keep going back and forth, never reaching a resolution," I say, "We never get better, never move forward."

His eyes widen slightly, but he nods, urging me to continue.

I remain silent for a few moments, tossing the decision I've just made around in my mind. I want to make sure this is the right choice, before…before I make it official. When I'm ready, I take a deep breath and force his attention back on me. I need him to understand what this means for us.

"I'm moving out."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

Sorry if the formatting looks weird. I suck at formatting. -shrugs-

Anyways, if I haven't mentioned it before, this fanfic is basically just me ranting about how flawed Misaki and Usagi-san's relationship is. This chapter was just one big vent for me, and I loved every second of writing it. Basically I'm counseling these shit-heads...with fanfiction, because that totally makes sense. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note:_

What's this?! An UPDATE?! About bloody time, am I right?

But honestly, sorry this took so long.

* * *

"Yes sir. I understand," I say, nodding as I close my cell. I shove my phone into my pocket and observe my work space. It's a mess, as expected. I scan over the list of documents – unorganized, naturally – and I can feel a migraine coming on. I gather the most significant documents into my arms – addresses and plans for future sales – and stuff them into my work bag. I'm expected in Kyoto in a few days to meet with some clients of a popular bookstore; I'm pretty nervous, as always. It's times like these I wish I had a mentor to help me out. Someone to encourage me. I suppose I had Usagi-san once…

 _Oh, wait…_

I mean, I suppose I had _Usami-san_ once. Honestly, we've been living apart for almost a week now and haven't even made time to see each other since. He hasn't called once. I haven't called him. It feels as though we aren't even dating anymore, and so it would be inappropriate to refer to him by that silly nickname. Right?

True, most of the distance is my fault. I've made a point of distancing myself from Usami-san since our fight. But in my defense, he took it way too far. And in his defense, I'm too vague to let him receive all the blame.

I reach into my pocket and lightly brush the edge of my cell with my thumb. I could call him whenever, and I know he'd pick up. He's probably sitting at his phone waiting for me to call him. He's probably been sitting there ever since that night. He's pathetic like that.

The building is empty. I'm here late, later than I should be. I'm not eager to return home even though I'll be returning to a friendly face; Minako has truly been hospitable to me since I spontaneously showed up at her door. She was more understanding than I was prepared for, as well. She never once asked what had happened between me and my roommate. She didn't see the marks he left – accidental, of course, but glaringly obvious in the bathroom mirror that night. I awoke to breakfast that morning. It was mediocre, but I couldn't help but feel grateful that I didn't have to cook again. As far as I knew, I wouldn't have to cook for awhile. Minako seemed more than willing to wait on me once I had established that my living with her was permanent.

I press the elevator button, then press it again…strangely impatient even though I don't want to return home. Perhaps I've been at work too long.

When the doors finally open, I step inside and instantly sag as they close and I'm alone – concealed in the mind-numbing thrumming of cheesy elevator music. I guess the truth is…I feel _out of place_. I've lived with Usami-san for so long, since I started college now that I think about, and to go from that sort of monotony to living with a girl I've only known for about a week…

 _Of course I feel out of place. Anyone would. It isn't like I miss the cuddling, the domesticity, or the sex…_

In truth, I know I miss all of those things. But in the end, I feel like we're doomed to fail. If I was with a girl, I wouldn't hesitate to say 'I love you', right? I would hold her hand, kiss her in public, and go on dates with her. We would be partners – equals. I wouldn't be picked up, tossed over her shoulder, and then unceremoniously fucked to exhaustion.

 _If I were with Minako, I could start over._

I nearly crash into the doors of the building as new thoughts catch me off guard. And somehow, they still seem wrong. I mean, I technically haven't broken up with Usami-san. Is it cheating to think of Minako like that when I'm still technically dating someone? More importantly, _why_ am I thinking about Minako like that? Nevermind that she's pretty, has pretty eyes, is kind, generous, funny, a decent cook…

Actually, this is normal, right? This is what niichan wants, right? I used to be so scared at the notion of dating a guy that now I've forgotten how to be with a girl. Not that I'm _with_ Minako, mind you...

I pull my hood over my head as the rain begins to fall. As I walk, I begin to think of Minako and Usami-san – comparing the two. I compare my feelings for both of them, and while those feelings for Minako are smooth and warm – safe – they also feel too subdued. They're too new, flickering like one of those odd lights in the distance where you can never tell if they're radio towers, airplanes, or even alien spaceships. Or maybe they're just stars…and that's what Minako is. She's a star: bright, probably warm also, but so out of reach that I feel like I'll always look at her yet never know who she truly is. We're just too new, and the road to knowing her seems too impossible to trek knowing everything I know now. The journey I've had with Usami-san, though difficult and trying, has proven to me that I can't imagine myself with anyone _except_ him. He's not a star, but the sun. He blazes in and out of my life, in and out of my mind, burning me and yet always keeping me so warm and so alive. He fulfills me in ways I can't even explain.

I need to be honest with myself. Even if things aren't official, I know Usami-san and I are over. We're done. I kind of want us to be done anyways, if only because I'm tired of disappointing Takahiro and I'm tired of dragging Usami-san on this carousel of emotions. It would be best if both of us moved on.

I pause in the middle of the street and watch the raindrops fall to the ground, not even acknowledging the tears that eventually follow them. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my text messages and find Usami-sans name. He hasn't texted me at all since that night. There's a missed message from Minako, but I ignore it for now. Still, I can't help but think about her – how happy she'd be if I could be happy for once. I don't think I've truly smiled around her since moving in. She's been so patient, but if I want to keep her as a friend, I'm going to need to put in some effort.

I feel my face grow hot as I scroll through my past messages with Usami-san, feel the overwhelming sadness as the moisture builds up and spills over my cheeks again and again.

Finally, after taking a deep breath, I begin to write a message. I click _send_ without giving it a second glance, then close my phone and shove it back in my pocket. I wipe at my eyes and start for home.

 _Thank you for the years of hospitality, but I don't wish to take this relationship any further._

 _Sent 9:08 PM._

* * *

Life must go on without Misaki. I must write without Misaki there for inspiration, but as a result I'm no longer writing romance. Aikawa is about ready to assassinate me, but she'll get over it.

It's depressing to acknowledge that I'd probably let her kill me at this point.

I must make dinner without Misaki. Naturally, I don't actually do this; instead, I order out and invest in boxes upon boxes of alcohol-filled chocolates. I can see that my snacking has begun to take effect – I'm gaining weight, though my metabolism will keep me slim enough. No one should notice except me.

Getting naked isn't nearly as fun anymore, what with the weight gain and without the warm body to press myself against.

I must also sleep without Misaki, and while Suzuki-san has been somewhat of a remedy to this issue, having sex with a stuffed bear would neither be appropriate nor remotely satisfying.

…I truly am pathetic, aren't I?

I drag a hand lazily across my face as I attempt to type my newest work: a tragedy, which seems appropriate enough considering the situation. It's not very late, only around nine o'clock, except I haven't slept in days and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second. Then again, if I don't make progress on this project Aikawa really _will_ have my head. Misaki isn't dead. He won't be in heaven waiting for me, so I can't die yet.

The truth is, it's not all about the sex. Not having sex isn't even the worst part. I toss and turn at night dreaming about Misaki, what it would be like to hold him again…to kiss his lips…to whisper _I love you_ into his ear and watch him squirm. He would always flush with embarrassment whenever I said that to him, and it was so adorable that my heart would leap with happiness – just sheer happiness at knowing he was mine and no one else's. He truly was…too adorable. And I fucked up.

I let out a sigh and stop my attempts at writing. It always ends like this: my thoughts consumed with Misaki.

I fucked up so badly. I'm so fucked up in the head, and he finally saw that. He finally realized that he'd never wanted to be with me, which is what I had been afraid of from the start. I thought that if I kept things quiet, mundane, then maybe we would continue as normal despite the one-sidedness of it all. He could never say 'I love you' to me the way I could to him. Public displays of affection were too embarrassing. I wasn't allowed to love him the way I wanted at his behest. It was so obvious, and yet I continued to push him the entire time until I finally pushed him out of my life. Even now, almost a week had passed and he hadn't spoken to me. No text messages. No phone calls. Nothing. My concern kept me from making the first move. If he needed space, I would give it to him.

Regardless, I know I fucked up. I shouldn't have allowed myself to drink. I shouldn't have tried to force myself on him that night. Things got too physical…

But I never wanted that. I never wanted to force him into anything, I'd only wanted _him_ for all those years.

It seemed like I was an expert at getting what I wanted at the time. Now I realize that I was actually an expert at forcing people to do what I wanted. I'm just a physical person by nature. It's been that way since…well, since I was a boy.

I groan and feel my brow crease as unwanted memories start returning to me, memories I've been trying to repress for years. Then my eyes sting as images of Misaki start flooding my brain, and I allow my head to fall to my desk with a solid _thump._ I will fall asleep here. I don't care if Aikawa finds me in such a pathetic state. Despite my pride, a part of me can't help but think I deserve it.

Before I allow oblivion to take me, however, I hear the buzz of my phone that lets me know someone has texted me. I lift my head with a groan and check my phone, only to see that I have a message from _Misaki._

Curiosity and the all-consuming embers of hope spark within me, and I hurriedly unlock my phone to scan over the message.

It falls out of my hand before I even finish reading.

So he's finally become a man, huh?

He's finally learned how to speak his mind. He knows what he wants now. That's a good thing.

 _Except he's being a coward by not saying this to you in person._

I laugh bitterly as the initial feelings of self-pity begin to swell into ones of anger. I've hurt Misaki, and I understand that. I know I should be proud of him for being the first to initiate contact. But still, the sensei inside of me is furious with him for ending our relationship over a text. It's only been a week, so I don't know what else I was expecting.

 _He's terrible at communicating._

How am I to know what he likes and doesn't like? How am I to know if he loves being loved by me when he's never straightforward with me? How am I to know when I've gone too far?

"Well, I suppose now I know," I mumble to myself as I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don't want to cry, but the pain is almost unbearable.

My resolve doesn't hold for much longer, and I collapse at my desk in a pile of sobs and exhaustion. I fall asleep like that, thankfully unseen by all. Except for God, of course. He's the only one I trust after Misaki to see me in such a wretched state.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Akihiko! Why the long face?"

I turn to glare at the nuisance of a man behind me. It's been a hell of a morning: I'm starving because I burnt breakfast, and I'm on my way to a meeting with obvious bags stitched under my eyes and wearing a suit that hasn't been ironed.

I keep my voice courteous as I acknowledge the nuisance, though he's truly an idiot if he doesn't catch the clear undertones of loathing beneath my civility.

"Isaka-san," I nod. Thankfully, he catches my glare. I can tell by the way his face lights up.

"Don't tell me I'm the reason for your terrible mood, Akihiko," he jokes, resting his elbow on my shoulder. I ignore the urge to shove him off. "After all, this is the first I've seen of you in _weeks_! Miss me?"

"Of course not. I've been busy with the new manuscript. I haven't had time to even consider you," I grumble, looking away. Of course Isaka-san would magically pop-up. He always seems to do that when I've hit my lowest point.

"I'm hurt, Akihiko," he says, making a fool of himself with his typical theatrics. "I've been thinking about you," he grins, moving his face dangerously close to mine. I finally build the nerve to force him off me, but he releases his grip before I can get a clean swipe. He raises his hands in surrender, still smirking. "Now, now, there's no need for violence…I was just curious what happened between you and Takahashi. The kid's looked miserable lately. I could barely get three words out of him yesterday."

I should have known he would bring Misaki up. Isaka-san is the senior managing director at Marukawa Publishing, after all. Still, the very mention of that boy's name strikes me breathless, and I'm unable to focus on whatever Isaka says next as thoughts of Misaki consume me yet again.

Misaki looks miserable? Just the thought brings me hope and breaks my heart all at once. I never want Misaki to be unhappy, but knowing that there's still a possibility that he _misses_ me…it's too much for my heart. My hand shakes, as if yearning to clutch the spot where my heart is now hammering inside my chest, and my mouth runs dry. I want to ask about Misaki. I want to know everything about what Misaki is doing: Who has he been talking to? What has he been eating? Is he putting on his ties correctly?

Isaka's annoying voice breaks me from my thoughts.

"Ah, so you have had a fight."  
"That's none of your business."  
"There's no need to confirm or deny it," he says, his face turning somewhat serious. "I can tell by your expression. You aren't difficult to read, Akihiko. But that kid opens your heart like no one I've ever seen."

It's true, isn't it? The wall I've put up for years…Misaki could see right through it. He's always been able to break me down to the bare bones. Not like Takahiro: sweet, naïve Takahiro who never noticed my past affection for him.

"Yes," I admit with a sigh, bringing my hand to my face. My eyes hurt. It's too bright out here. "We…ended our partnership."

"You got dumped, huh? That's rough," he says, looking surprisingly sympathetic. He places a hand on my shoulder and I'm too tired to brush it off.

"I got dumped."

He nods and looks at the ground thoughtfully for a second.

"Do you need to talk about it?"

"I'd rather not discuss this with _you_ ," I state plainly. He shakes his head, a small smile crossing his face.

"No, I mean, do you need to talk about it with someone else?"

"Whom do you suggest?"

"Knowing you, probably a therapist. Look, I've been having…eh… _doubts_ about something recently. Something…kind of similar to what you're going through."

"Oh?"

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with," he coughs into his hand, a fierce blush appearing on his face. "Just…I know what you must be going through. I know what it's like to – to worry about losing someone."

I say nothing. It isn't like Isaka-san to be this sensitive in front of me, or in front of anyone really. I stare blankly at him as he pulls some sort of business card out of his front pocket.

"Take this," he says, handing it to me. "She's wonderful to talk to…if you need it, of course."

I study the card apprehensively. I'm not usually one to take advice from Isaka-san. The man has always proven too nosy for his own good, especially when it's involved my relationship with Misaki. I'm also not one to admit when I need help. Misaki was the only one I let see me vulnerable. To go to a therapist now would be…well, admitting defeat. It would be me admitting to myself that I've truly lost Misaki – a part of myself – and that I need help. I've been fine on my own until now. I realize that I've become too dependent on Misaki. Can I let this person see me in pieces? How am I supposed to admit to her how broken I feel when I can't even face a mirror?

But still – Misaki is the only thing worth working for. He's the only person worth fixing myself for. I've always been fucked up. I know that. I hurt Misaki, and Misaki hurt me. But it's Misaki's job to examine his errors, and it is my job to examine my own. I won't trouble myself with what Misaki has done until I fix myself.

I love him. And I know a part of him must still love me. We couldn't have lasted all those years without _some_ love.

"Take the card already. My arm's getting tired." Isaka complains.

I take the card.


End file.
